Reed T. Henderson

The person I’m going to discuss was a champion, but for reasons other than having multiple trophies on a shelf or medals hanging on a wall. No, this man was a champion of a journey no one should ever face. That journey was a cancer journey.

On Dec. 13, 2016, my late husband, Reed, was diagnosed with colon cancer following what we thought would be a routine colonoscopy at Mount Nittany. The surgeon informed us that same day that Reed had cancer in his sigmoid colon. He said he’d seen it enough times before to know that it was cancer, but of course, they would send the biopsy away for further testing. The next few weeks were a complete blur as we were sent back to Mt. Nittany as well as to Danville for many more tests and procedures to determine if the cancer was anywhere else, all while trying to take in the festivities and remain optimistic during the most wonderful time of the year with two young sons at home.

On Dec. 23, it was revealed that the cancer had already metastasized to Reed’s liver and there were approximately 48 lesions on his liver that they could count. By early January, we met with an oncologist in Danville. She suggested that Reed proceed with chemotherapy treatment and forgo any surgery, due to the fact that it had already spread to the liver. If he would have surgery, this would delay any treatment for 6-8 weeks until which time he would be healed. He also was experiencing no pain, which solidified the doctor’s decision about moving ahead with treatment. She told him, “We’re gonna hit it and hit it hard and see what happens.”

And hard it was, but here’s where the champion part comes in. Reed never complained of pain, of being nauseated and only every once in a while, talked of being tired. He continued to go to work daily and operated Kish Printing, the business we had acquired just a few short years earlier. In fact, he not only ran the printing business and assisted me with my funeral home business in Belleville, he also coached the Kish Indians pee wee football team. He would spend his evenings on the football field, running plays with the boys and teaching them what they needed to know to become champions on and off the field. He would tuck his portable chemo bag under his shirt, so that the boys didn’t notice he was wearing it, because 8-10 year old boys are very curious, and they weren’t there to talk about Coach, they were there to learn about football.

Along with coaching football, he also helped to coach the little league baseball team our son was on at the time, assisted our oldest son with obtaining his accounting degree from Shippensburg University as well as perfecting his skills at archery and rifle hunting for deer and turkey. He took time to teach our sons the importance of gun safety, how to properly use a chainsaw, and how to fix and repair multiple things around the house. Lastly and most importantly, he taught them how to take care of their Mom and be good, responsible men, even though Eli, our youngest, was only 11 at the time of his father’s death.

Reed’s chemotherapy regimen continued for the next five years, with no more than a two-week break at any given time, until sometime around September 2021. He was receiving an oral chemotherapy treatment and they discovered that it was no longer effective and the cancer was spreading. His local oncologist in State College informed us that there was one more oral chemotherapy treatment that he could administer to Reed. That was all that was available for his type of cancer.

In the early weeks of October, he began the final treatment and it was quickly evident that it didn’t agree with him. He became quite ill, so he decided to discontinue the treatment and live out what were his last days feeling half decent, celebrating the holidays with his family. He had an appointment at Fox Chase in Philadelphia on March 4, 2022 to see if he was a candidate for a clinical study they were starting, but he succumbed to his cancer and went to be with our Lord and Savior shortly after midnight on Feb. 17, 2022. That day, our champion became our hero and our hero became a memory. And that’s a memory we will never forget.

Submitted by April D. Henderson, Belleville